(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

Evarista paced in front of her father's office nervously. The soft scratching sounds coming from beyond the heavy door implied that he was writing something. Working, perhaps. Disturbing his work wasn't a good opener, but she couldn't afford to wait. Besides, it wasn't like she was pestering him. She hasn't asked her father a favor for many years, and attempted to stay out of sight and out of mind when possible. Right now, it was not possible.

She had already made up her mind about what she wanted, but she couldn't do it without his approval. Choosing her words now was absolutely critical, but she didn't have any flowery arguments or enticing proposals. She was never good at this sort of conversation, and the recent events have put her in an even less capable state. Trying to play anyone for a fool would be futile.

The girl held a wrinkled piece of parchment where she had scrawled some key words for the upcoming conversation. Without this, she'd get lost within two sentences and start spouting gibberish, or even go silent. It has happened many times before, and the risk of it happening yet again was looming. She really didn't want to do this, and so wished it wasn't necessary. The last twenty chimes spent pacing in front of Sitanos' study built up enough anxiety to make her feel like a wildly shaken bottle of champagne about to be uncorked. The non-stop scratching of a goose pen didn't help her nerves. The impatience finally defeated the anxiety

"Fa... Father!" she blurted out, a bit hoarsely.

The scratching on the other side stopped. After an unbearable pause, a weary-sounding masculine voice replied.

"No, Laurenzia. No more parties. Host your debauchery elsewhere." The scratching of the pen resumed, as if the conversation was over.

What a great start. He mistook her for one of her sisters. Or was it a cousin? Ah, screw that. It wasn't strange, though. Evarista was possibly the last person in the entire estate he'd expect to come to his door like this.

"N-no, it's Evarista. I need to talk to you about something important. Can I come in?"

The writing on the other side stopped again. She managed to maintain a steady tone despite her entire body shaking violently. She absolutely hated being dependent on others. In most cases it couldn't be helped, and she was willing to tolerate the day-to-day condescension of the family, but when her subordinate position came to a head like this, it was excruciating.

And... what the heck was with this long pause? Was he about to send her away? That would spell the doom for the whole ordeal. Well, maybe not doom. She'd have to find other means to get her way, possibly hazardous to herself and many others. She didn't even want to think about that. Thankfully, the presence on the other side found it fit to invite her.

"Come in." His voice was much softer now. This surprised her. He had no reason to be particularly kind to her. Although, maybe he was more willing to hear out her business, than yet another demand for money by some of their hysterically hedonistic relatives.

That's... promising, right?

Last edited by Evarista on September 18th, 2016, 8:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Unable to suppress her increasing heartbeat, she pushed the massive rosewood door. It took three attempts to open it, but eventually she was inside the office, facing her father. She hasn't even begun presenting her issue yet, but she already wanted to turn around and run away. It's actually been a while since she met the man behind the desk face to face. Their paths seldom crossed since her expulsion from the Institute. As one of his oldest children, she had to sit close to him at the dinner table, but she avoided eye contact as much as she could. Now, there was no such luxury.

Putting his goose pen down slowly, Sitanos beckoned her to approach the desk and sit down. The most prominent emotion on his face was not anger for being interrupted, nor disdain for being bothered by his least worthy offspring. It was simple curiosity. After years of a decidedly quiet and modest demeanor by Nitrozian standards, what could Evarista possibly want? Something major was up, and he knew it. She wouldn't come to him for something trivial. Reclining in his large armchair, he stroked his chin thoughtfully as his daughter sat down gingerly across from him. His gaze fell on the scrunched piece of parchment in her hands. Not even a pretense of good spokesmanship, huh?

"Alright. Out with it," he urged her.

"There's a... hmm. I want a... There's a someone I want to have. A foreigner."

Sitanos' face elongated in bewilderment. She wanted a slave of all things?

"Explain." He abandoned his relaxed posture and leaned forward, now even more curious.

She looked reasonably calm as she replied, and her voice was the usual breathy, disjointed drone. The only thing that gave away her near-explosive anxiety were her wildly darting eyes, trying to look everywhere except at him.

"There's a boy I met at a café. He's from a far-off land. Not a citizen. I want him to keep me company here. I'm... lonely." She lowered her head slightly and let out a deep sigh, so profoundly pained that Sitanos got startled a little. The ensuing silence weighed heavily on them, but fortunately, he broke it soon. Both his face and tone made his skepticism obvious, but still had a trace of fatherly affection.

"How will you take care of a slave? You can't even take care of yourself, Evarista." He let out a troubled sigh of his own and leaned back in his armchair again, arms crossed. He continued.

"So, this boy, you say... Is he the reason you've been absent the past week?" His gaze sharpened suddenly, almost making her jump in her seat.

Evarista froze with an agonized look on her face as steams of cold sweat poured down her back. Fiasco. She gave the completely wrong impression. She worded everything wrongly, she did everything wrong. Now that this idea struck him, there was nothing she could say or do to disperse his suspicions, unless she brought him proof of her innocent intentions. Which she couldn't, naturally.

Yes, the Nitrozian patriarch was no fool. This situation was not unique. He taught his children thoroughly, but some were still stupid enough to end up in unsavory situations. The sort of unsavory situations he implied with his question. He was completely off base, of course. More off base than he could ever imagine. But Evarista had not the vocabulary to explain this.

"N-no. No. He's... I've met him before that. And today I've met him again. He's... hmm. He's a good servant. He tells stories. I like his voice. I want him here so that I can listen. I want him branded, or he'll run away from me."

It all made perfect sense to her, but he looked like he hardly understood anything she said, confusion on his face rising visibly with each word that left her mouth. Evarista had never felt it so intensely; the feeling of being out of tune with the person she spoke to. It wasn't just as if she was speaking a language that he didn't understand. It was like she was a hooting monkey jumping up and down on the chair in front of him. Another species.

The young aristocrat fell silent and lowered her eyes, staring at the her hands blankly. Her overgiven vision was still smudged and monochrome, mercifully obscuring her father's face in the corner of it. The paper she was once holding had drifted down to the floor a while ago. She had no idea what to say now, and was quite ready to simply stand up and walk out as soon as he told her to.

The pause lenghtened from seconds to chimes. Evarista didn't have anything else to make her case, but she also didn't want to leave, rigidly staring down at her feet in resignation. She has largely calmed down, as if rising on a sort of second wind of composure. The anxiety was gone. All she wanted was some sort of response from her decision-making parent.

Sitanos sat equally still, as if digesting her words. His eyes have lost their previously sharp edge. Instead, he was rubbing his chin slowly and gracing his misfortune of a daughter with a pensive gaze. He was... sad. Sad that he was unable to make sense of his own flesh and blood, even after twenty years. She was one of his oldest children, one of the closest people he was supposed to have in the wide, deep and often treacherous waters of the Nitrozian family. If she had been just a little more capable at anything at all, she'd have half of Ravok bowing down to her now. Instead, she sat here, unable to string two words together. It was unspeakably, excruciatingly, degradingly pathetic. Blaming her would be useless, though. He had learned that much over the course of her life.

"Tell me. Do you want to be an adult?" The older man was still reclined on his armchair, arms folded across his chest. His face had a weary expression, as if he was explaining something blatantly obvious to a twelve year old.

Evarista nodded silently, without looking up. It was a lie, though. She didn't want to be an adult at all. It was just not her forte, admittedly. When it came to any adult affairs besides drinking, she was as helpless as a genuine twelve year old. Not even a truly titanic effort would overturn this fact. The man sitting across from her knew this better than anyone in the world. Even so, he continued.

"Do you know what sets adults apart from children?"

The girl shook her head. She really didn't know. At least not in a way that could be worded simply. Expecting this response, Sitanos answered his own question fluently.

"Responsibility."

Evarista chewed on her lip as the dreaded word sunk into her consciousness. She understood where this was going. On the one hand, she was a bit happy. On the other, she was afraid. More afraid than she was of some truly horrifying things. She wasn't afraid of failure, no. She was afraid of exactly what he said: taking responsibility for it.

"Evarista. Look at me."

The girl mechanically raised her head and met his eyes. If she'd been anyone else, she'd be bawling her eyes out right now. But there were no tears. Her glassy eyes stared at him with half-apprehension, half-indifference. Like a beaten animal who just wanted to be left alone. Like every single time in the past, after every single attempt to make her carry the crushing burden of responsibility of any sort at all. Even if it was something mundane, even if it was something trivial. And the matter at hand was not trivial in the least.

However, Sitanos was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. For many years, she hasn't lifted a finger, content with doing nothing. Even if he entertained her request, she would probably continue doing nothing, and fail her endeavors, as usual. The disillusioned father was too jaded to set his expectations above zero, but he was still her father. Everyone else in the family has been quick to dismiss her as a non-existence, but he could not. It would be unfair not only to her, but to him as well. This is because she was his responsibility... and he was most definitely an adult.

Lore:Nitrozian Estate: Sitanos OfficeSitanos: Compelling and IntimidatingSitanos: Requesting a new slaveHwyn: A slave and chance to grow upSitanos: Giving Evarista a last chanceSitanos: Permission to own a slave